


Design Flaws

by irisbleufic



Series: One Step Away 'Verse (& Related Excursions) [7]
Category: Back to the Future (Movies)
Genre: Awkward Blow Jobs, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Blow Jobs in a Car, Canon Compliant, Car Sex, DeLorean DMC-12s Are Not Suitable for Use by Manchildren, Did I Mention This Is Awkward?, Epic Bromance, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Idiots in Love, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Science Bros, Sex in a Car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 20:13:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4405937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This spur-of-the-moment hypothetical <i>might've</i> been best left alone.</p><p>
  <span class="small">[Can be read as stand-alone, but set in <b><a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3298754">this already existing series / fic 'verse</a></b>.]</span>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Design Flaws

**Author's Note:**

> For Car Smut Anon and [milarca](http://milarca.tumblr.com/), and also for the folks who valiantly contributed to [The Top Ten Worst Cars to Have Sex In](http://jalopnik.com/the-ten-worst-cars-to-have-sex-in-1522855773).

**July 4, 1987**

Emmett popped the passenger-side door, stepping back as the lower edge of it barely missed his nose. That had been the trickiest feature to navigate around from day one, he reminisced, sliding into the seat. He flipped down the sun visor, squinting as one of the vanity lights he'd had installed on either side of the mirror failed to turn on. He tapped it with his fingernail, frowning.

Retrofitting it from time machine to standard-use vehicle the year before had been one of Marty's better ideas. Now, courtesy of Biff Tannen's Auto Detailing, it ran far better than any _other_ DeLorean currently out there on the road. Fresh out of Belfast, the transmission had been terrible.

In the background, on the far side of the garage, Marty was still muddling his way through _Shake, Rattle, & Roll_ on Emmett's old saxophone, which he'd had restored for Marty back in January when he'd wisely chosen Music Education after having spent his first semester at Stanford undeclared.

"Your fingering is slightly off!" Emmett shouted, removing the miniature screwdriver from his breast pocket so he could loosen the faulty light's plate. "Something sounded flat. Go back to—"

Marty abruptly stopped playing. "Bite me, Doc!" he called back, but the grin in his voice was deafeningly obvious. "Why don't you try remembering how tough this thing was to learn, huh?"

"Oh, I remember all right," Emmett reassured him, loosening the first screw, and then, lowering his voice slightly, "but if you want me to do the other thing, I'm at a disadvantage from over here."

Emmett had half expected Marty to ignore him and keep on playing, but, as he caught the second screw in his palm and tucked it in his pocket along with the other, there were several seconds of silence followed by the telltale, brassy rattle of the instrument being set down in its case. Rather than look up at the sound of Marty's flip-flopped approach, Emmett wiggled his toes in his own sandals and concentrated on prying both casing and bulb free. _Three, two, one—_

"You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" said Marty, with fond annoyance, one hand on the edge of the gull-wing door as he peered in to have a look at what Emmett was doing. "What's wrong?"

"Look here," Emmett muttered, sticking the screwdriver in his mouth. "Damn thing's burnt out."

Marty promptly took the screwdriver out of Emmett's mouth, and then reached for both the plate and the bulb. "Where'd you put the spares?" he sighed, running all three components over to the work-top before coming back, wiping both hands on his t-shirt. "Or did I read you right?"

Emmett dug the screws hastily out of his pocket, shoving them in the glove compartment. He swung sideways in the seat, leaving his sandals in the foot-well, resting his heels against the running board. Marty grinned at him, arms above his head, both hands on the door.

"You read me right," Emmett told him, reaching up to take Marty's hands in his own, using the leverage to tug Marty—who had to hunch awkwardly to make the angle work—forward.

"I don't know about you," he said, leaning in at Emmett's urging, "but I seem to recall there's a pretty good reason we never attempted to, you know, _park_ in this thing." He shifted forward into Emmett's lap cautiously as they traded kisses, toppling them back against the arm-rest-slash-gear-shift. "Okay, Doc. That can't be comfortable," he sighed, nuzzling Emmett's neck anyway.

Emmett heard Marty's flip-flops hit the ground, one in the foot-well and one on the concrete floor of the garage; so far, he figured they weren't doing too poorly for being in a cramped vehicle that really _was_ the epitome of form over function. "I'm willing to put up with machinery digging into my spine if it means I can get you off," he breathed against Marty's ear. "How about that?"

" _Jesus_ ," Marty sighed, lifting his head, biting his lip. "You do realize we've gotta be at my parents' place in like two hours for their annual Independence Day cook-out bash, right?"

"I hadn't forgotten about that, either," Emmett reassured him, eagerly pressing a kiss against Marty's neck now that he could get at it. "I figured this wouldn't take long, unless you had other— _ah_."

Marty rolled his hips again, pressing Emmett's lower back harder against the solid backing provided by the central cylinder. "I can always count on you to take the bait, Doc," he said, smirking, and planted an off-center kiss against Emmett's chin. "Besides, this is an...interesting challenge."

"If we'd left all the time machine's former trappings _in situ_ , then the undertaking would've been downright dangerous," Emmett agreed, discovering that, in order to ruck up Marty's shirt and get it over his head, whacking his elbow off the dashboard was inevitable. " _Shit_ ," he hissed.

"That's gonna bruise," Marty muttered, running his hand from Doc's shoulder down to his currently stinging left elbow, cradling it gently. "Maybe we should just take this over to the sofa?"

"Where'd be the fun in that?" Emmett asked, admiring Marty's feverish concentration as he attempted to get Emmett's shirt unbuttoned using only his free hand. "Need some help?"

"I'm not the one who needs help here," Marty informed him smugly, sliding his warm hand into the opening he'd managed, massaging Emmett's right nipple with his thumb. "It wasn't my idea to attach some vague innuendo to this hulking mechanical metaphor for our relationship, okay?"

"An interesting challenge, you were saying?" Emmett repeated, quietly sucking in his breath.

" _Mmm_ , yeah," agreed Marty, absently, letting go of Doc's elbow so he could finish the unbuttoning job right-handed and get _both_ of his thumbs busy. "It sure is. Now, if we..."

Whatever Marty meant by catching Emmett's lower lip between his teeth while his hands continued their admittedly limited roving across Emmett's chest, they could both clearly get behind it without having to think twice. The problem was, there was no way to recline the seat, so Marty's left elbow and knee dug hard into the padded leather as they moved; he grunted into their increasingly breathless kiss.

Emmett tried to shift sideways so that they'd be facing the windshield, but the maneuver went horribly wrong.

" _Ow_!" Marty hissed, winching in his right elbow, which had just come in much harder contact with the dashboard than Emmett's left one had. "Watch it! One false move and somebody's gonna break an arm." He gave up on Emmett's chest and worked his left hand awkwardly down between them, popping the button on Emmett's cargo shorts. "Or some fingers, sheesh. Doc?"

Presently, Emmett couldn't think about much more than the fact that Marty was palming him through his boxers. "This isn't ideal," he allowed, running both hands up and down Marty's smooth, lightly tanned back; those afternoons on the beach, however sunburn-plagued for both of them at the outset, definitely _hadn't_ been a waste. "I'd be open to another venue as long as..."

"Jeez, okay," Marty muttered, kissing Emmett again, giving Emmett's hard-on a fond squeeze before letting go. "How about you forget trying to talk," he said, shifting out of Emmett's lap, twisting his upper body as he stepped out with one bare foot, reaching up to catch the dangling-loop door handle, "while I— _fuck_! Jesus Christ, that _stings_!"

Startled out of his desire-muddled daze, Emmett started forward numbly and caught Marty before he could hit the concrete floor. He'd hit his head off both doors often enough during the initial conversion process to know that you could never really evade them. He managed to settle against the running board, feet planted firmly on the floor, pulling Marty, still balled up in pain, between his knees. "Let me have a look," said Emmett, grimly, brushing Marty's hair back from his forehead.

"I'm bleeding, huh?" asked Marty, squinting beneath Emmett's ministrations. "I can feel it."

"Right along the hairline," Emmett said, brushing his knuckle lightly below the cut. "Marty, I'm _sorry_ ," he sighed, getting to his feet, tugging Marty along, mindful of the door. "I'm to blame."

"Nah, wait, just—Doc, _wait_ ," Marty urged, pushing at him. "Sit down," he ordered, shoving Emmett till he was back where he'd started. "There's still a first-aid kit in the glove compartment, right? Get it out. Yeah, like that. Good. Alcohol swab, band-aid." He got back on his knees, one hand resting on each of Emmett's. "Take care of this, and maybe I'll take care of _you_."

"We should go up to the house," Emmett muttered, wrestling the alcohol swab out of its wrapper, dabbing at the livid three-quarters-of-an-inch break in Marty's skin. "Rest a while instead."

"Nope," Marty said, unwrapping the band-aid while Emmett finished clean-up. "Here."

"You'd better think twice before calling _me_ stubborn from here on out," Emmett insisted, placing the bandage with utmost care. He sealed the edges, gently brushing Marty's hair back into place. He tipped Marty's chin up with both hands, kissing the spot lightly. "Are you all right?"

Marty closed his eyes, savoring the attention, stroking the backs of Emmett's hands. "Mmhm."

"Well, there's one bright spot in this whole mess," Emmett murmured, trailing his lips down to kiss Marty's temple—and then his cheek, his nose, his mouth. "You didn't do near as bad a number on yourself as I did back in fifty-five, although I must say that the placement is _uncanny_."

"Shut up," Marty mumbled, sliding his tongue along Emmett's lower lip. "Scoot forward on the seat a little, would you?" he asked, both hands already occupied with unzipping Emmett's fly. " _Great_. Now spread your legs some more, huh, or I'll never..." He got Emmett's erection out in the open air all right, though, because thinking was even more difficult than before.

"Marty, _please_ don't rush— _oh_ ," Emmett sighed, losing his fingers in the softness of Marty's hair. Marty never wasted any time when they didn't have much of it to spare, and this instance was no exception; he sucked the head of Emmett's cock with direct, loving attentiveness, his right hand already twisting at the base. "I somehow don't think...I deserve..."

Marty pulled off for the briefest of moments, leaning forward to mouth at Emmett's belly while his hand kept busy. "See, _now_ you're talking nonsense," he murmured, letting go of Emmett's erection so he could wrap both arms around Emmett's waist. " _Mmm_ , yeah. C'mere."

Emmett groaned, coming before Marty could do much more than dot a few kisses up his length. He sagged back against the arm-rest, boneless, the gear-shift jamming hard into his spine. He winced.

"Easy," Marty said, snagging his t-shirt from the foot-well, using it to clean off his cheek, his neck, his collarbone. "You'd have thought I wasn't doing my job around here, good _grief_."

"Nothing around here is your job," Emmett insisted, helping Marty to his feet, peering upward to make sure that Marty had gotten both hands braced securely against the untrustworthy door. He noted how breathless Marty was, tugging Marty's hips forward a fraction, satisfied to find a damp spot once he'd worked one hand teasingly inside Marty's shorts. "But this is mine," he said softly, withdrawing his hand so he could unbutton Marty and take care of him properly. "All right?"

Marty nodded tautly, shoving his palms up harder against the door. "Hurry _up_ , Doc."

"Here," Emmett whispered, cupping Marty's erection in one hand, dipping his tongue slowly beneath the head. "I don't want you to—" he tongued Marty's slit "—lose your balance."

"Uh, Doc," Marty faltered, wobbling a little in Emmett's grasp. "I'm not so sure I—"

Emmett sucked for about ten seconds, stroking Marty's waist, until he felt Marty's knees give.

"Oh my God," Marty rasped, and the door above him creaked in protest. "Doc, oh my _G_ —"

"Come here," Doc said, gathering Marty down faster than the door could follow. " _Shhh_."

"You have five fucking seconds to sit back in the fucking— _ah_ ," Marty whimpered, his thrusts already just the kind of uncoordinated mess Emmett was after. "Please. _Fuck_."

Emmett held him close, eyes squeezed shut, _elated_. "That wasn't so difficult, was it?"

Marty poked him in the ribs, eliciting laughter from both of them. "You're unbelievable, Doc."

"I aim to please," Emmett admitted, pressing his cheek to Marty's, savoring the fact they'd both just shaved that morning. "Let's go inside, get cleaned up, and check on Einstein before we go?"

Marty kissed him back into the gear-shift, merciless. "Cheater. You didn't even use your teeth."


End file.
